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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719734">Grounding Technique</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean'>im_the_king_of_the_ocean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:29:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When given the chance to know everything there is to know, it can be difficult to not get lost.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Martin is there to bring Jon back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Grounding Technique</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The scent of tea wafts through the air, warm and pleasant and comforting.Rain pit-patters against the roof.Jon inhales and exhales.He needs to focus on the little things.To keep himself present.The creak of the floorboards.The moss on the stone wall he can see outside the window.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The book of poetry on the table next to the bed, what is it titled again?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as he feels himself reaching for the knowledge, Jon jerks himself back.He gasps, gulping for lungfuls of air.He’s nowhere near the ocean.He’s on solid ground, firm and real, he reminds himself.He feels like he’s seconds away from drowning regardless.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In a way, Jon supposes, he <em>is</em>.If he lets his thoughts wander too far…well, to put it bluntly, he’s not sure he could find his way back.A part of him isn’t sure he would <em>want </em>to.Knowledge is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?It’s <em>safe</em>.The more you <em>know</em>, the less dangerous the world, and all its unexplainable unknowns, are.Wrap yourself up tightly in enough Knowing and nothing (especially not incomprehensible spider books) can harm you.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Except, of course, Knowing itself.But, it <em>wouldn’t</em>.Not him.It <em>cares </em>for him.It <em>likes</em> him.It <em>wants </em>him.If Jon just <em>gave in</em>, he wouldn’t have reason to be afraid.He <em>wouldn’t</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The door to the bedroom opens.A shadow falls across Jon’s form, curled under the blankets, on the bed.Jon gazes up at the figure casting it.He doesn’t say anything, or offer any kind of greeting.Jon simply watches.Maybe he’s already lost himself, a quiet voice in the back of his head theorizes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey.”Martin approaches the bed.He looks like he’s considering sitting on its edge, but he hesitates.The worried look on his face asks, <em>would it be alright?, </em>silently.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jon wants to tell him ‘no’, wants to tell Martin to keep his distance, wants to keep him at a length where he can observe him, but not feel his presence, his warmth, his <em>affection</em>.Instead, Jon forces his lips to form the words, “yes, please.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Martin sits on the bed.He pauses, smiles at Jon, and then leans over.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jon allows himself to be gathered in Martin’s arms and held.He leans his head against Martin’s chest and listens to the steady thrum of Martin’s heartbeat.If he wanted to, Jon could have all the knowledge in the world about the human heart, how it functions, why it sounds the way it does.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Before he can consider thinking about it, Martin says, “You’re so soft, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?”Jon’s curiosity takes a sharp turn, pulling him back away from the unknown depths at the edges of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Martin chuckles.“You’re <em>soft</em>.”He speaks the words like they explain everything, which they don’t.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jon scoffs at him.The pursuit of increasing his Knowledge falls out of the forefront of his mind, easily replaced by the question, <em>what is Martin going on about</em>?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If I could ever touch the clouds.”Martin cards his fingers through Jon’s hair absently, forcing him to pay attention to the sensation.“This is what they’d feel like.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That—Martin, that <em>doesn’t make any sense</em>!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Doesn’t it?”Martin grins at Jon, as if he’s expecting Jon is in on a great secret only he knows.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, it <em>doesn’t</em>.Clouds are made of water.My hair certainly is not.What you’re saying makes <em>no sense</em>!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm.I suppose that’s good to know.”Martin kisses the top of Jon’s head.“How are you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jon blinks.The shift in his attention, the pull toward figuring out Martin’s ridiculousness, it…it anchored him.He’d been drifting toward…he really didn’t want to think about where his mind would have ended up without Martin’s intervention.Jon closes his eyes, and fully lets himself soak up the affection freely being given to him.“Better,” he admits with a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good.”Jon doesn’t have to see Martin’s face to know the relief is there.“I’m here for you.”<em>To bring you back</em>, Martin doesn’t say, but Jon knows he’s thinking, <em>when the pull gets to be too much.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em> And I, for you</em>, Jon replies in his own head.He’s not quite ready to say the words yet, but he knows Martin knows they’re there.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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